


Mans Best Friend(zone)

by Patchouli (lifelesslyndsey)



Series: How To Teach An Old Dog New Tricks [7]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Friendzone, mentions of Darcy Lewis/Johnny Storm, past Bruce Banner/Darcy Lewis, pre-Tony Stark/Darcy Lewis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 14:55:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12509948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifelesslyndsey/pseuds/Patchouli
Summary: As Tony watches her twist and wriggle, till her bra clasp is at the front, he finds himself coming to a horrible realization. She undoes the hook, flings the whole thing across his living room with no shame, and proceeds to burp loud and long. “Fuck this movie, let's watch midget porn and take a shot every time someone gets a facial.”





	Mans Best Friend(zone)

**Author's Note:**

> the friendzone is a social construct created by a bunch of fucks and neither Tony nor Darcy will play into that kind of sexist bullshit.

Tony takes one look at her and promptly drops the half-a-sandwich hanging from his mouth directly into his neuron reflector implant.  “I’m sorry Miss Lewis, but that... _outfit_ violates at least seven work safety regulations not to mention it appears to be in and of itself, a sexual harassment lawsuit waiting to happen. Remove it at once.”

 

“Jesus Christ,” he hears Bruce mutter from beside him. The man has not looked up, eyes steadfastly glued to the pulse agitator control panel before him.

 

“...They’re jeans.”

 

“They’re practically _underwear_!” Tony argues, forcing his scowl to remain when Bruce makes an uncomfortable noise beside him. Tony reminds himself that out of the two scientists in the room, Bruce is the one that’s seen Darcy in - and out - of her underwear. Hmph.

 

“They’re denim! Seriously, you have seen me in jeans before.” She picks at the hem of her shirt. It’s not a nerd-shirt, not emblazoned with any stretched-out decal.  It’s not even a t-shirt. It’s some sort of double-breasted up thing with a wide flat collar, and two rows dark blue buttons. It’s something not outside of a Slutty Sailor costume, but better fitted and slightly less lewd. Slightly. He’s pretty sure it’s actually a jacket, and Darcy has just opted to wear nothing under it.

 

Tony blinks. Her lips are painted up a brilliant red, and her hair is tamed to a soft, straight fall. She’s wearing mascara, and a little eyeliner, which is odd because she doesn’t normally wear make up.  To be fair, her pants _are_ jeans, but they’re indecently tight, a dark blue denim that makes her legs look far too long. It’s the feet that seal the whole thing off though. She’s decked out in white, peep toe heels. They’re Peppers shoes, he just knows it, and it hits Tony like a ton of bricks.  Those are Special Occasion shoes. Darcy borrowed Peppers Special Occasion shoes. Pepper use to wear them when she wanted Tony to Do Things And Stuff.

 

“You’re going on a _date_.”

 

Darcy sighs, bites her lip but doesn’t mess up her lipstick. Which means it’s the fancy kind Pepper buys that never smears or smudges. Pepper is in so much trouble for not telling Tony about this.

 

“I just came to tell you that I won’t be home to feed you dinner; Jarvis has been instructed to sic Dummy and Butterfingers on you if you don’t order something in.” She pauses, eyes flickering to Bruce, who hasn’t said a single word since the revelation, just calmly tinkering on with nuts and bolts. “That goes for you too, Doc. I will be home....when I am home.”

 

“You will be home at eleven,” Tony says before he can stop himself because what. “You have work in the morning. I have things for you to do. Assistant things. I need to be assisted in things. Bruce too. Isn’t that right, Doc.” Bruce grunts; it’s not good. Tony barrels on anyway. “Who’s the guy anyway? Is it that grease ball from R and D, because I swear I told him----”

 

Darcy cuts him off by slapping her hand on the table. “For _one_ , no it is not the grease ball from R and D, but because I’m pressed for time I’m going to let it go that you even know about that, let alone went out of your way to talk to Ryan. _Two_ , I will be home when I damn well please because when I am off the clock, what I do is my own business. You’re my boss, not my dad. I will thank you kindly to remember that, as well as the fact that I am actually a fully grown adult. I realize this is a difficult conclusion for you to draw, as you have not yet managed to aspire to such levels. Now, Johnny will be here in ten minutes. Have a great night.”

 

  
“Johnny,” Tony repeats, frowning deeply. “Johnny. Johnny what? Do we know a Johnny? It has to be someone we know; you don’t know people we don’t know, do you? Jarvis! Cross reference every Johnny, Jonathan, and John in the building, against Darcy Lewis----”

 

Darcy throws a screwdriver at him. “Oh my god, no! Jarvis, absolutely not---”

 

“Johnny,” Bruce says suddenly, sounding a little strangled. “Johnny _Storm_?”

 

Darcy gives him a startled look. “Uh. Yes, actually. I wasn’t aware you knew him.”

 

“I know his sister,” Bruce replies. “I’ve met him a few times; he’s a total _tool_.”  

 

Darcy gives him an arched look, but it’s obvious she’s taken aback by Bruce’s sudden opinion. Bruce generally tries not to have opinions about anything. He is the Switzerland of their group, even after he and Darcy’s very amicable separation of which Tony has several opinions on and cannot voice a single one. “I wouldn’t say tool. People in North Face jackets are tools. Johnny’s just a little bit of a---”

 

Tony snaps his fingers together. “Douchebag! That’s what he is. That’s what all the cool kids are saying these days right? Douchebag? I bet he wears his hats slightly to the side, and pops his collar. Seriously though, he’s a total dog, and that’s coming from a former dog---”

 

“Former?”

 

“I will have you know I was very faithful to Pepper,” Tony says, firmly. Johnny Storm, Tony thinks with no good will. That boy is a douche nozzle. “You’re getting fancy for Johnny Storm?  You’re way too good for him. He’s a dick.”

 

“Yeah well he’s the only one to ask,” Darcy says, a little more sharply. “I mean, he’s the first guy in a while to ask me _out_ , instead of in.”

 

“You go out all the time.”

 

“Not on dates Tony,” Darcy says, mouth curving into a smile. She shares a look Tony doesn’t like with Bruce, who smiles helplessly in return. They’re not fucking anymore, Tony is sure of it, but they have and it gives them an edge Tony can’t compete with and doesn’t like. “Sure I have _friends_ , and that’s great. But Johnny actually asked me out to dinner, not to the fucking coat closet or back room. So I said yes. End of story. Don’t wait up.”

 

***

 

He did wait up though, but he didn’t wait up long. Darcy came stumbling in through the main foyer of the Avengers floor at just past eleven, a surprisingly respectable time. She found him in the kitchen, taking the toaster apart out of boredom.

 

“Hey,” she muttered, hitching her purse up on her shoulders. “So my night was crap. Want to go do jagger bombs and watch The Princess Bride?”

 

He tossed the screwdriver into the kitchen table and shrugged. “Best offer I’ve had all night.”

 

Wesley had just pulled down the water jug for Buttercup, when Darcy sighed, and looked at him. “It’s just...he looked disappointed.”

 

“Johnny?”

 

“Yeah,” Darcy sighed, and kicked her shoes off under the coffee table. “When he dropped me off; he looked disappointed. He didn’t say it, but he wanted me to invite him up. And now I’m thinking maybe I should have, ‘cause he’s not going to call back---”

 

“You didn’t for a reason,” Tony interrupts, throwing a hand full of popcorn at her. One of the vacbots comes whirling in from its corner, sucking up the puffy kernels that have fallen to the floor. “You had a reason. I don’t know what it was, I don’t need to know---”

 

“We had a good time.” Darcy shrugs. “He was sweet, did the whole good-boy schtick, pulled my chair out, opened doors, sprung for the good wine. A part of me did want to invite him up; he’s a good looking guy, and I’ve heard the stories. But...I kind of just wanted to know that...that it wasn’t all just an act to get in my pants. That...that it wasn’t an act at all, but it was. He’s not going to call me back. It wasn’t even that I was seriously interested in him. I just...I just wanted one person to be interested in _me_.” She gives him a thin smile and rolls her eyes. “I think Bruce spoiled me. He knew how to treat a lady. Now I’ve got all these expectations. What a dick.”

 

“He could call,” Tony finds himself telling her, because as much as he hates that tool Johnny Storm, he hates the look on Darcy’s face more. “You’re worth more than what you can do on your back Lewis. ”

 

She flashes him a dirty grin. “How would you know? And like I said, I’m not too torn up about it. I mean yeah, it sucks but it’s fine. I know I’m awesome. I don’t need d-bag hot shots to validate myself. A little appreciation is nice, yeah, but----”

 

“Darcy Lewis don’t need no man?”  Tony finishes for her, throwing a popcorn kernel across the room so the vacbot can chase it. Darcy’s ruining him. “You don’t.”

 

“You’re the only man for me, T-Dog.” She grins, before popping the top couple of buttons on her jacket-shirt-thing open, and working a hand between the material, so she can wiggle her arms out of her bra straps. As Tony watches her twist and wriggle, till her bra clasp is at the front, he finds himself coming to a _horrible_ realization. She undoes the hook, flings the whole thing across his living room with no shame, and proceeds to burp loud and long. “Fuck this movie, let's watch midget porn and take a shot every time someone gets a facial.”

 

Darcy Lewis put him in the Friendzone.

 

Tony drinks more than necessary.

 

Darcy...drinks more than that.

 

****

 

He has female friends. He has lots of female friends. The friendzone isn’t a real place. It’s what douchebags say when a girl wont fuck them. Tony knows this - has listened to Darcy rant about it enough.  They _are_ friends. Yes, he wants to fuck her, God does he want to fuck her. But she’s hot, and she’s bossy, and Tony likes what he likes, okay? He’s aware of himself, of his failings, all of it.  So yeah, he knows you can be friends with people you would enjoy fucking; he’s friends with Bruce, isn’t he? It shouldn’t matter that she doesn’t want to fuck him, Bruce doesn’t and they’re still friends.  It shouldn’t matter that she doesn’t see him in _that_ light.  

 

Then why--- _why_ \----why is he so fucking upset?

 

****

 

Tony crawls out of bed the next morning, head throbbing and his throat lodged somewhere in his throat.  They’d stumbled drunkenly to his loft in the labs, to drunk to manage the elevator long enough to make it to the penthouse suite. He remembers hanging off her, her hanging off him. Laughing as they tried to walk, sure the floor was moving. Jarvis’ patient voice instructing them firmly left, right, left, no the other left, into the elevator to the labs.

 

Tony woke still wearing most his clothes, one sock hanging off his foot, belt undone but pants still zipped. His shirts long gone, and Darcy’s wearing his tank and her own cotton boyshort panties, leggings trapped around her knees like she’d passed out half-way to taking them off and he doesn’t know what to make of that. Doesn’t know what to do with that. They didn’t fuck, he’s sure of that.  They didn’t even fuck around.  Tony is, inexplicably, glad of it.  He eases out from the curl of her body, sucks in a breath when her fingertips catch on the edge of the arc-reactor. She scratches absently at his chest hair. Tony feels the strange, inexplicable urge to _cry_.

 

But no. He won’t do that.

 

He peels himself up, hauling a fresh shirt from the closet. He can’t stand the sight of her against his sheets though, the contrast of her dark hair spilling over his white linens. Her chest stretch the front of his tank, and he can see the painfully perfect undercurve of her tit through the armhole.  She rolls over onto her back, one leg bent, pale belly exposed and Tony thinks this is what dying feels like.

 

He leaves.

 

It’s early, even for him, and the labs are quiet.  Tony tinkers, as his wont to do, swiping through a backlog of prototypes on the holoscreen, ideas from the R and D underbelly.  Bruce comes in, mug in hand, eight o’clock on the dot.

 

“Darcy make it in okay?” He asks, settling himself at his desk.

 

“Date was a bust,” Tony admits, and his heart beats hard where it’s lodged in his throat. “Storm’s a cunt.”

 

“Hmm.” Bruce opens his mouth to say something - something Tony doesn’t want to hear probably - when the bedroom door of the loft pops open overhead.  

 

Darcy doesn’t stumble out. It’s more of a shamble, puffy, mascara smeared eyes half open as she makes her way to the loft kitchenette, bare feet slapping against the cold floors.  She’s pulled her hair up into a messy bun on the top of her head. From this angle, Tony can see the curve of her bare ass, creased with red lines where the sheets had wrinkled.  She scratches said ass cheek even as he watches, and drinks his orange juice straight from the carton.  She looks down at them over the railing with nothing short of a sneer. “Fuck you both, I’m going back to bed.” She burps again, and walks directly into the edge of the counter, swearing colorfully before heading back to the bedroom.  Tony thinks maybe he’s never seen her look more beautiful and it hits him hard in the chest, makes him feel sick and stupid. He can’t breathe.

 

Tony is, madly, horribly, terribly, painfully, _stupidly_.....in love with her.

  
  


 

**Author's Note:**

> this is the slowest of burns but I finally figured out how I want them to end up


End file.
